Come Fly With Me
by Philyra
Summary: AU. Journey back ten years to the creation of the 8/13 Dance Studio, and its first love story. UkiUno. Part three of the Strictly Ballroom series.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. The bleach I own keeps my whites white.

WARNING: Major cheese ahead. Those not from Wisconsin or France better brace themselves!

* * *

"Do you want to tell me why we're here?" Ukitake Jyuushiro asked, his long white hair blowing in the wind. He stared up at the abandoned, boarded-up building in front of him. It had once been a gym, an example of American influence that had failed to take root in Japan; opening with bright fanfare, and fading into obscurity shortly afterwards.

Kyouraku Shunsui smiled. "Come on, let's go inside."

"B-but, that's trespassing!" the other man exclaimed.

"It's not trespassing if you're the owner." Brown eyes twinkled in excitement. "Are you coming or not?"

Inside, the click of their shoes on the hardwood floors echoed throughout the empty building. It was rather nice inside – it was too bad that the previous owners had not been able to get a good return on their investment.

"What do you see, Shiro?"

"What do I see?" Baffled, Ukitake looked around him. "An empty building."

"It has potential, doesn't it?"

Alarm bells went off in his head. His best friend was always coming up with crazy schemes, but he couldn't possibly be thinking…could he? "Potential for what?" he said warily.

"A studio, Shiro!" Shunsui spread his arms, encompassing the space around them. "There are locker rooms here on the first floor, as well as that large room that held the exercise equipment. It would be a perfect ballroom. The exercise rooms on the second floor can be easily converted into smaller studios. The apartments on the third and fourth floor can be leased out – like to employees!"

"You're crazy," Ukitake said flatly. "The money, the time-"

"We're both retired!"

"-the _problems_!" he shot back. "Do you know how hard it will be to get students from the general public? Do you not remember how we had to go to England to learn how to dance because there was nowhere here to learn? We have cultural restrictions!"

In Japan, where affection between husband and wife was restricted to the bedroom, ballroom dancing was the ultimate taboo. For a man and a woman who were not even married to touch each other in that way – to dance together when married couples didn't even do it – was scandal.

"Times are changing, Shiro!" Shunsui exclaimed. "Have you not noticed the number of us growing overseas? Our comrades in England? Don't you think that they would welcome the chance to have a job at home? The chance to learn more here?" He grinned. "Money really isn't that much of an issue. I have my share of my winnings from Blackpool, which I've invested very nicely. You have your money from teaching. My old man was nice enough to buy this building too…it suited his interests."

"This is still crazy! Why would you think that I would want to be a part of this?"

"Because it's the chance to continue, Shiro." The brown-haired man turned, his entire demeanor serious. "You stopped dancing long before you were supposed to, and turned to teaching. Why should that stop when we're here, when we're still in the prime of our lives? Do you really want to give up dance altogether?"

Ukitake stopped, absorbing his friend's words. His health, never quite strong to begin with, had failed him three years after he'd turned professional. After a championship win at Blackpool, a severe bout of atypical pneumonia had left him with irreversible damage to his lungs. Chronic asthma had only complicated things, so he had quit dancing competitively, turning instead to teaching so that he could still be a part of the dance world. He'd loved it too much to leave. The prospect of giving it up entirely upon returning to Japan was like a death sentence. Especially because dancing was his last link to _her_. Now, if there was a chance to continue…

"I'll consider it," he said eventually.

* * *

Of course, he gave in. How could he not? The benefits far outweighed the risks when it came to ballroom dancing. Shunsui's vision was always something he had held in his heart, the small hope that ballroom dancing could somehow _work_ in their homeland.

This, of course, was not to say that ballroom dancing didn't have a following in Japan. That was hardly the case. There were ballroom dancers, but most went overseas. There were studios, but they were often connected to other dance studios, where dances like ballet, jazz, and hip-hop overshadowed it. Ballroom dancing existed underground, and it was their job to bring it into the limelight.

But they needed help, for they could not run the studio of their dreams by themselves – not with their ambitious plans. So they dove into their contact record, specifically looking for younger dancers who would still want to learn from them, but would also benefit from teaching others. For Jyuushiro, whose specialty was Standard, he found Aizen Sosuke and his partner, Shihoun Halibel (who was the cousin of Shunsui's old partner, Shihoun Yoruichi) a couple that had only recently made the leap from amateur to professional. Shunsui had a young couple – Ichimaru Gin and Matsumoto Rangiku – who were still amateurs.

The studio was already advertising. Ads were run in the newspapers and magazines, of course, but there were other means. The best way to get customers was to appeal to the younger crowd, who were much more open to new things – and they would have the potential to go far. So they advertised at ballet studios and high schools, and planned to do demonstrations. Shunsui was currently trying to wrangle a spot on a talk show – and considering he had three Blackpool championships under his belt, he would be heard. And while all this was happening, the old gym was being revamped into a stylish, yet functional dance studio.

Finally, it came time to open the 8/13 Dance Studio. A gala was thrown in the grand ballroom. Family, friends, and acquaintances had all been invited. Friends from the ballroom world had also flown in to show their support. An incentive for potential students was offered: free dance lessons for a week. Multiple demonstrations were planned, and thanks to Ukitake and Shunsui's efforts, there was a decent turnout from the press.

"Dare I say that this event is a success?" Shunsui muttered in his best friend's ear as they observed the event before them.

"Don't hold your breath, Shunsui. This is only the beginning."

"Always there to keep the head from flying from my shoulders, eh Shiro?"

"Always." The two men grinned at each other.

Shihoun Yoruichi came up beside them and nudged her old partner. "Are you ready for our demonstration?" Her smile was devious, her teeth dazzlingly white against her mocha skin. "I, for one, am always up for shocking the old-timers."

Shunsui's loud, warm laugh could be heard well over the music and the chatter. "Always, koneko-chan. I am so glad that you were able to come."

"As if I could stay away! Besides, I've brought you two quite the present." She nodded to where Aizen Sosuke and her cousin were chatting with a striking, black-haired couple.

"Is that Kuchiki Byakuya?" Ukitake asked, surprised. The nobleman was a celebrity, Japan's own Prince William or JFK, Jr. That he was here tonight spoke volumes and meant that the opening of 8/13 would be all over Tokyo by tomorrow.

"Indeed. Byakuya-bo and I go far back."

"But how did you get him here?"

"He's newly married and infatuated with his wife." Yoruichi nodded at the petite, pretty woman standing next to the Kuchiki nobleman. "Hisana-chan is a dear, and she's _very_ interested in dance."

"And since Kuchiki-san has the same dance background you do," Ukitake said slowly.

"We may very well have our first customers!" Shunsui crowed, picking up his old partner and spinning her in a circle. He had to restrain himself from planting a full, smacking kiss on her lips. Such a display, while acceptable in Europe, could possibly mean negative publicity here. "Thank you, my dear girl." He presented his arm to her, grinning broadly. "And now, we have a dance to perform. Shiro, perhaps you should go over and answer any questions Kuchiki-san might have?"

Ukitake bowed jauntily in return, and began to work his way to the crowd, smiling and chatting with whoever he could as he made his way over to the couple. Connections were an amazing thing. Yoruichi, who was also of a prominent noble family, had been Byakuya's playmate and close friend as a child. It was well known in the Japanese ballroom dancing circle that they had been partners as teenagers. He never could have hoped that their shared past could mean so much for the studio.

The audience fell silent as the room went dark. A space was cleared in the center, a spotlight lighting up Shunsui and Yoruichi as they launched a powerful and commanding paso doble. Ukitake watched and smiled, listening to the awed whispers of the crowd around him.

Suddenly, a cool hand fell on his elbow. "Jyuushiro."

Ukitake turned and almost swallowed his tongue, frozen in place. "R-Retsu!"

Unohana Retsu stood before him, beautiful in her tranquility and simplicity. She wore a simple black wrap dress with a deep v-neck and long, snug sleeves. Her long black hair was pulled into an elegant French twist. "It's wonderful to see you again," she said softly. Her eyes twinkled as she looked down at his proffered hand. "That's how you greet your old partner? Do I not deserve a hug at least, after all these years?"

"Y-yes," he managed, and hugged her awkwardly. His former partner had always had a wonderful, infuriating way of unbalancing him. "I never expected to see you here. But I'm so glad you came! I thought you were still in Africa."

Unohana had been a medical student when she had first begun to dance with him. Somehow, she managed to juggle the unbearable hours with practice and competition. That cycle continued when she began her residency as a surgical intern, though how she had managed was anyone's guess. When he had fallen ill and retired from competitive ballroom dancing, so had she. After she completed her residency, she joined Doctors Without Borders and went out to Africa.

He had not seen her in close to five years, with little to no correspondence between them. But now, the time and the space and the distance between them simply melted away.

"I've just come back." She smiled up at him, her hands sliding down into his in a gesture that was so natural neither of them noticed. "I heard about the studio, and I had to come and show my support. Good luck."

Suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration. Shunsui had Yoruichi to help him teach – she had promised to stay as long as she could. But he had no one to help him teach, and he was loath to keep stealing Halibel-chan from Aizen-kun whenever he needed help demonstrating. Perhaps… "Will you help us?" he blurted out, as the audience burst into applause, signaling the end of the demonstration.

"I was hoping you would ask." Her smile was pleased, and there was a soft emotion in her eyes that he couldn't quite decipher.

_Really? _Her reaction had his nerves skittering off in every direction. "Um, the classes," Ukitake said, babbling the first things that came to mind. "I might need help…teaching. Aizen-kun is wonderful, but he still has things to learn, and-"

Shunsui exchanged a significant look with Yoruichi as they approached the other couple, accepting the compliments as they walked along. It had never failed to amuse him in the past that calm, quiet Unohana Retsu could turn his levelheaded Jyuushiro into a blathering idiot. Apparently, she still had that ability. "Retsu-chan, my love!" he boomed, sweeping her into a hug, ignoring the helpless glare his best friend sent at him. "Someone told me an angel had come into the studio!"

"Shunsui-san, I'm glad to see that you're well." Not even a feather ruffled. "Yoruichi-san, you look beautiful, as always. It's always wonderful to see you two together on the dance floor."

"I can say the same for you, Retsu-chan," Yoruichi said with a grin. "I myself have always envied you and Jyuu-kun – you have an elegance on the floor that we lack."

Shunsui brightened. "Would you two like to do a demonstration?" His voice was sly. "For old times' sake?"

Ukitake's eyes widened. "N-no!" he said. "It's been so long…I mean, Retsu and I-"

"Do you give me so little credit, Jyuushiro?" There was a glint in her eyes as she looked at him from under her eyelashes. Her tone, though mild, had hairs rising on the back of his neck. It worked every time. There was no arguing with it.

Though he sure as hell could try. "But, Retsu-"

"Wonderful!" Shunsui chirped. "I'll let the band know. Slow foxtrot, right?"

And that was how Ukitake found himself in the center of the ballroom, holding Unohana in his arms. He smiled nervously at her, his heart pounding. But she looked up at him, sensing his panic, and her eyes warmed, chasing the nerves away.

The music began, and body memory took over.

The slow foxtrot had been their specialty. Its distinct combination of quick and slow steps combined with a smoothly flowing rhythm made it one of the more technically difficult ballroom dances. The motions of it, slow-slow-quick-quick had to be meticulously controlled and fluid.

They made a beautiful pair on the dance floor – her black to his white. There was no question that they were masters of the dance. Their communication on the dance floor was flawless. She responded to the lightest pressure of his fingers, matching her steps with his as though they were of the same mind. They crafted an exquisite performance that left the audience breathless and wanting more – but that was merely the beginning.

"It figures," Shunsui said with amused disgust. "He spends nearly an hour trying to make himself presentable, yet mere moments with her on the dance floor make it seem insignificant."

Ukitake and Unohana positively glowed on the dance floor. Their emotional connection was nearly tangible and evident to everyone who watched them. Every time their eyes met, their expressions made the audience hold their breath, lest they break the spell. There was a truth in their dancing that said more than mere words ever could.

When it ended, Ukitake felt an inexplicable disappointment. It had always been this way when he danced with Unohana, this feeling that he could dance with her forever.

"You've lost none of your magic, Shiro, Retsu-chan!" Shunsui cried as he came forward, noting the way the glow around the two dimmed.

Unohana smiled. "I would not have accepted anything less."

A throat cleared behind them. "Yoruichi-san."

"Byakuya-san!" Yoruichi was sporting a feline grin, sparing her childhood playmate from his unfortunate nickname. "Ukitake-san, Unohana-san, may I introduce Kuchiki Byakuya-san and Kuchiki Hisana-san?"

The timid, pretty woman bowed her head slightly, her soft gray-violet eyes shining. "Your dance was absolutely wonderful, Unohana-san, Ukitake-san. It is amazing to me that a pair of people can move so beautifully together."

"Your compliments are too kind, Kuchiki-san," Ukitake said, flattered. "I believe that with the right training and the right partner, anyone can achieve it."

"Do you really believe that, Ukitake-san?" She turned to her husband. "Byakuya-san, you've learned to dance like this, haven't you?"

The tall, elegant man nodded gravely. "I learned as a child with Yoruichi-san."

"How wonderful," Hisana sighed. "I suppose it is too late to learn now…"

"It is never too late, Kuchiki-san," Unohana said gently.

Her eye lit up as she turned to her husband once more. For a moment, he looked as though he was waging a fierce internal battle. Ukitake knew exactly what he was doing: weighing the impropriety of ballroom dancing as a whole to the wishes of his wife.

If it were anything else, propriety would have prevailed. But Yoruichi was right – he adored his wife. He would not be able to deny her anything. "If it is your wish, Hisana."

The smile the nobleman was bestowed with would have melted any iceberg. It was no wonder he was madly in love. "Arigato, Byakuya-san." She turned to Ukitake and Unohana. "Ukitake-san, Unohana-san, I would be honored if you would take me as your student."

"And I, as well," Byakuya said, shocking everyone. "I would enjoy dancing with my wife. It has been far too long, and I believe I have lost many of the skills I had learned."

Ukitake felt faint. It was already a windfall, to be able to teach the wife of Kuchiki Byakuya how to dance. That would have been enough to boost the reputation of the 8/13 studio. But to teach Kuchiki Byakuya as well…the news was already spreading across the ballroom as those standing around them passed the news on. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"It would be our pleasure, Kuchiki-san," Unohana said serenely.

* * *

"And from the basic, we go into a promenade," Ukitake said, keeping a close eye on his partner. "Wonderful, Kuchiki-san." He glanced over to where Unohana was doing the same thing with Kuchiki Byakuya. The nobleman was quickly remembering all of the dancing he'd done as a child, and thus progressed farther in the dance syllabus.

"Now we go into a rock turn to the left, then to the right. Remember, Kuchiki-san, the foxtrot is slow-slow-quick-quick." He smiled as she adjusted her tempo. "Very nice, Kuchiki-san, I think you're a natural!"

The small woman dimpled up at him. "Arigato, Ukitake-san. I'm having so much fun!"

"I'm very glad. Now we'll move on to the underarm turns-"

In the weeks following its opening, the 8/13 Dance Studio was buoyed by considerable interest and free dance lessons. Also, since word spread that Kuchiki Byakuya himself was taking private dance lessons, the upper-class clientele poured in.

However, that success was short-lived. After the first few weeks, half of Shunsui and Yoruichi's beginner's ballroom class dropped. Several couples that'd been taking private lessons with Aizen and Halibel dropped as well, and Matsumoto and Gin lost about two-thirds of their children's ballroom class. They had to find a way to maintain their clientele, and they had to find it fast. It was imperative that they also think of a more aggressive advertising campaign to attract more interest, or the studio would not be able to last.

But Ukitake wasn't thinking about that right now. It was wonderful to dance again, especially with Unohana. It was one of the joys he'd thought he'd never have again.

They had been the talk of the ballroom world, a promising young couple whose unique style, impeccable technique, and absolute talent promised to make them champions. They had begun dancing at a time when the sport itself was changing, and they were sure to be the leaders of the new future of dance sport. Their crowning glory had been winning the championship at Blackpool.

But then he'd gotten ill and everything fell apart. His lungs had become far too damaged for him to do any sort of strenuous workout – they had already been weakened by the asthma he'd had ever since he was a child. He could no longer dance the way he liked and that left his partner stranded.

There were so many men who would have leapt at the chance to have Unohana Retsu as their partner, but for some reason she had declined. He'd done his damnedest to get her to accept someone else, throwing all sorts of potential partners at her, even though doing so nearly killed him. He didn't want her to waste her talent since he could no longer keep up with her. Ukitake had gone nearly mad with guilt when she went off to Africa, thinking that she felt some sort of obligation to him, and she chose to quit instead of go back on her honor. Their parting had been amiable, for neither of them had wanted to leave in anger or resentment, considering the circumstances. But after his sickness, their friendship had not been the same, and neither of them could admit why, which agonized him to no end.

When she'd left, it was as though he began living someone else's life, like he'd simply stepped outside of himself when everything went wrong. He'd written countless letter to her, all of them carefully placed in envelopes and stamped – but never sent. He tried, but he couldn't. His words were too cold, too stilted, conveying everything but the sentiment in his heart. No, he couldn't send her those letters. She deserved more than that. She deserved to know the truth – the one that he couldn't bring himself to address.

He had been enchanted with her from the beginning. It wasn't the kind of love that came crashing down on one's head like a ton of bricks – no; his love for her had come softly with the years. Like a symphony orchestra, his feelings for her, as varied and unique as the instruments within, built slowly upon each other, harmonizing and building to an astonishing crescendo that was _love_. She was the music that he danced to, the rhythm that beat within his heart, the song of his soul. Those feelings never changed over their five-year separation; they had merely gone into hiding.

But now that she was back…that love whose song was a string quartet had become a symphony orchestra, and he was helpless to the change. He could only be swept away by it.

His eyes strayed to her as she led Kuchiki Byakuya in a series of running steps. She was grace incarnate, moving effortlessly with each motion. Her long black hair, pulled back in its customary braid, whipped behind her as she traversed the length of the studio. Her profile was like a cameo, smooth and elegant and impossibly breathtaking.

Hisana followed her teacher's eyes and smiled. "Unohana-san is lovely, isn't she, Ukitake-san?"

He shook himself out of his reverie and returned the smile. "Indeed she is."

"And such a marvelous dancer."

"She is one of the best." His brown eyes were turning dreamy.

"And how long have you loved her, Ukitake-san?"

He stumbled going into a box step.

Hisana giggled. "I'm sorry, Ukitake-san, I seem to have overstepped my boundaries. But the emotion is so real in your eyes that I had to comment on it."

Utterly flummoxed, he could only nod. It was a testament to his skill (after all, if a ballroom dancer missed a step during competition, the only thing to do was continue dancing) that he was still moving. "Ah. Um."

"It's quite all right, Ukitake-san, you don't have to answer. Shall we continue?"

Grateful for the life preserver she'd tossed to him, he nodded. "Of course, Kuchiki-san. Now, let me explain the twinkle steps…"

* * *

Ukitake nearly spit out his tea. "We're doing _what_?"

"Kohaku Uta Gassen." Byakuya sat back and observed the group in front of him impassively. "They want to try something new this year. Several dance troupes and studios have been invited to be featured in certain songs. 8/13 has been given four slots – one for each couple. I have the assurances of the coordinators that the studio will be acknowledged on-air."

He was greeted with a period of complete silence. Then the room _exploded_. Even restrained persons like Aizen and Halibel let loose. This was the windfall the studio had been waiting for, the opportunity they needed to keep the studio afloat. Kohaku Uta Gassen was a legendary production of NHK (Nippon Hoso Kyoukai), Japan's premiere broadcasting station. The show itself was one of the longest running of its kind, having been in production since 1951. The annual show pitted a team of female singers against male, with a panel of judges and the studio audience voting for the winner. The event was prestigious – artists were selected on an invitation-only basis. Much of Japan would be watching, and they would see the 8/13 Dance Studio. Byakuya found himself the unwilling recipient of hugs (courtesy of the women and Shunsui) and much backslapping.

"How did you – Kuchiki-san, how can we thank you?" Ukitake said when the exhilaration died down. "For you to do such a thing-"

Byakuya shook his head. "It is for your benefit as much as mine, Ukitake-san. I am happy when Hisana is happy." He smiled slightly, remembering his wife's not-quite-request-but-demand that he do something for her "friends, Ukitake-san and Unohana-san." She had so few of them, so it was a request he gladly fulfilled.

Ukitake smiled. "Of course. You have our gratitude, Kuchiki-san."

The nobleman inclined his head and stood. "It's quite annoying, but a reporter from _Aera_ is doing a special on me next Tuesday and will be following me throughout the day. This will include my lesson in the studio – is that all right?"

That was yet another bomb – _Aera_ was Japan's version of _People_ magazine. It meant even more coverage for the studio, even if it was a small blurb. Ukitake was rendered speechless. Byakuya smiled slightly and bowed his head, exiting the office and the excited babble as the dancers began planning.

Later that night, Shunsui and Ukitake found themselves lying on the floor of the ballroom, staring up at the ceiling, still stunned silly. Everyone else had gone home for the night and there were no classes.

"Can you believe-" Ukitake began.

"I know." Shunsui began to laugh, the rich bass tones echoing nicely off the wooden floors. "Who knew that Kuchiki Byakuya would be our saving grace? Kohaku Uta Gassen." He savored the words as they rolled off the tongue like fine wine. "Shiro, if this doesn't help us, I don't know what will."

"It will, and you know it. Have you planned any dances yet?"

"Koneko-chan and I talked with Rangiku-chan and Gin-kun. We wanted to do fast songs, so they'll jive and we'll samba. You?"

"We planned the opposite. Aizen-kun and Halibel-chan chose the waltz."

"And let me guess…you and Retsu-chan are doing the foxtrot."

"Of course."

Shunsui cracked open an eye and snorted at the silly grin on his best friend's face. "Will you cease with the tip-toeing around and just tell her how you feel, Shiro?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Bullshit. You've been walking around as though all you need is a basket of rose petals to throw around."

"That's_ your _department, my friend."

"Of course. I'm only lending you the image." The dark-haired man blew out a breath, and all levity left with him. "What I don't understand is why you're holding back."

"Isn't it quite obvious? I failed her. We were so close, but then…" His hands clenched and he closed his eyes. "I couldn't be her partner. But I tried to help, I truly did. She turned down all of those partners…heavens, Shunsui, she turned down Zaraki and you know what an amazing dancer he is!"

"They never would have gotten along," Shunsui said dryly. "The man goes through partners like a baby with diapers for all of his talent."

Ukitake finally opened his eyes and sighed. "I don't know why, but she feels obligated to me. Even now, I feel like she's helping only out of some misguided sense of duty. Retsu should hate me. I held her back without meaning to. My illness kept her bound to me when she should have returned to dancing." His voice twisted with agony. What if she hated him? The thought was almost too painful to bear.

"You're an idiot."

"What?" Ukitake turned his head, staring.

"What makes you think that Retsu-chan would do anything she didn't want to do? What if she left of her own free will? Maybe you should consider the fact that _she didn't want to dance with anyone but you_."

"But-"

"Shut up and listen." Shunsui sat up. "Retsu-chan loves you."

"How can you say that? How do you know?"

"Because both of you positively glow with the blasted emotion when you dance! You don't see it because you're too intent on wallowing in guilt and projecting it onto her to see how she truly feels. Open your eyes, Shiro, and see what's right in front of you."

"How can I see something that I'm not sure even exists?" was the bleak reply.

Shunsui growled. "_Enough_. Get your head out of your ass, Jyuushiro, before you lose her again. Be a man and stop moping. Stop running. That's all I'm going to say." He lay back down, throwing an arm over his eyes as his best friend sat in shocked silence. "I need sake."

Unohana leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She'd forgotten her hospital ID in her locker and had gone back to retrieve it. Hearing voices and then hearing her name – well, she was only human. She had to listen.

So that was where she stood. She shook her head, torn between a crazy kind of mirth and frustration. She'd had an inkling on how terribly blind her former partner was to her mind and heart, but she hadn't known that it went that far.

Perhaps that was her fault – she was entirely too good at concealing her feelings, except, apparently, to Shunsui.

There was no doubt that she loved Jyuushiro. She'd loved him almost as long as she'd known him, and no one else.

He was right, to some extent. She had resented him after his illness, but not for the reasons he thought. Back then, she had loved with the single-minded intensity of youth and first love, and had not bothered to look beyond that fact. All she'd wanted was to be with him and be by his side, caring for him in the way that only she could. To have him push her away and have the _gall _to suggest that she dance with others had been unbearable. The possibility of that distance being guilt over disappointing her – well, she never would have been able to guess that, because at that time, he could do no wrong. Not with her.

She wouldn't have been able to comprehend his sacrifice. Hurt and confused, it had been easier to bury her emotions, and to finally leave when it became too hard.

But being in the field changed her. Doctors Without Borders had forced her to grow up, enforcing a clarity of thought that she'd never possessed before. She began to really _think_– and in Africa, there was plenty of time to think and reason. She knew Jyuushiro and eventually saw that there had to have been some underlying reason to his forced distance. Their partnership, their friendship had been too close for that all-too-simple explanation of needing a new partner.

Her understanding had grown over those years apart, and her feelings never faded. In fact, they grew. When she came back, she knew that she had to find him. The feelings she held now made the feelings she'd had five years ago seem as insignificant as a candle to the sun. The girl that she _was_ loved knowing of only the good times. The woman she was _now_ loved knowing of hardship, sacrifice, and loss. She had matured, and so had her love and her understanding.

However, that meant nothing if he couldn't accept that. Unohana sighed, rubbing her eyes. She didn't trust herself to talk to him right now. She would either degenerate into a weepy mess or beat the crap out of him for being so stupid. It would do, she thought, to simply go home and think this over.

One thing was certain: now that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his heart remained hers, she would do anything she could to keep it.

* * *

Unohana's nerves were frayed to the point of insanity. She'd been stewing for the past week, and was still at a loss on how to proceed with Ukitake. Normally, she would have simply allowed things to run their course, taking the time to gain his trust and show him how she truly felt. She was a surgeon; her patience was long.

But five years was too long, and she was not inclined to wait any longer. The only problem was that a direct approach would almost certainly scare him off. Her Jyuushiro was stubborn, and he had persistently clung to his (rather erroneous) beliefs for five years, and would continue to do so. So, she could not be delicate, and she could not charge the gates.

_Men_, she thought in exasperation. Why did they have to be so difficult?

Luckily, her control was meticulous, and no one had an inkling of the turmoil going on within her. However, the problem with that control was the longer she held things in, the more likely she was going to explode. Today, her control was leaking away ever so slowly, heralding an outburst somewhere in the near future.

It didn't help that today was the day the _Aera_ reporter who was following Byakuya was visiting, or that this week she and Ukitake were teaching Byakuya and Hisana the tango – the one dance where she could allow her frustration and anger to show. Apparently, that little bit had been enough. The reporter, a genial man named Toriyama Masaharu, had asked to see a professional couple in action. She and Ukitake had obliged, knowing that the more that was said of the studio, the better.

When they finished, the reporter had much praise and one comment in particular stuck: "I don't know if you love each other or if you hate each other."

It was when Ukitake replied, "Oh, she hates me," that everything boiled over. It was said so flippantly, so easily, that everyone else shrugged it off as a joke. But Unohana read between the lines, catching the slight tremor that belied the fears he'd shared with Shunsui.

It was a miracle that she managed to get through the rest of the lesson. The minutes dragged by torturously until she and Ukitake finally waved away Byakuya, Hisana, and Toriyama-san. "Jyuushiro," she said, her voice so tightly restrained that she had to force the words out. "May we talk?"

She saw something like dread cross his face, only to be wiped away by his usual amiable expression. "Of course, Retsu." He led her to his office, closing the door behind them. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat beside her in one of the two chairs placed in front of it.

"You confuse me, Jyuushiro," she said stiffly, before he could say anything. "You seem to be laboring under the assumption that I should hate you, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why."

For a good amount of time, Ukitake – elegant, refined, Ukitake Jyuushiro – could do no more than imitate a fish. If she hadn't been quite so enraged she would have found it most amusing. "Ah, Retsu – I suppose you mean my comment to Toriyama-san? It was a jest, I assure you-"

"Was it, Jyuushiro?" Her hands were _trembling_, for god's sake. "Because _I _can assure you that I certainly don't hate you."

"Ah." He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Of course you don't-"

Subtlety flew out the window. He was withdrawing, and she was going to be damned if she couldn't get some answers out of him. It was time to lay out her cards. "I overheard your conversation with Shunsui-san."

Ukitake turned pale, his heart going cold. "Y-you did?"

"Yes, I did." She looked at him steadily. "You love me."

It was said so calmly, in such a matter-of-fact fashion that he had to respond truthfully. "Yes. Yes, I do. Retsu, I'm sorry-"

She held up a hand, stopping him. Part of her rejoiced that he'd finally admitted it, and the other was horribly wounded at the fact that he didn't _want_ to love her, or at least, want to admit it. It was one thing to overhear these things, and quite another to have it said to her face. "Why are you apologizing over loving me, Jyuushiro? Is the idea so distasteful to you?"

"No!" Brown eyes widened, pleading. "Never. Retsu, it is simply that…it must be uncomfortable, since you cannot possibly reciprocate-"

"You're putting words in my mouth, Jyuushiro. Is it so incomprehensible that I should feel the same way about you?"

How could he talk when she kept pulling the rug out from under him? "I-I-I, well," he stammered. "You stopped dancing because of me-"

"Did I?" Her voice had gone soft, disturbingly so. That should have warned him right there, if he hadn't already noticed how quite unlike herself she was acting.

"Yes!" There was his conviction. "My illness held you back! I tried not to let you be tied down to me, it wasn't fair to you-"

_That_was her limit. She looked up, eyes blazing. "It wasn't fair to me? What about being fair to you? You pushed me away when you needed me most. How do you think that made me feel, that you were hurting both of us to ease _your _conscience? How _dare _you?" A single look from her made him shut his mouth.

The white-haired man stared at her, nonplussed. "I couldn't let you stay," he said weakly.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why wouldn't you let me stay with you?"

"You deserved more," Ukitake whispered, still reeling from the sudden influx of information. "There was so much more out there for you-"

_Crack._

She was magnificent in temper, he thought dazedly, a hand going up to where she'd slapped him. Fury flushed her cheeks red, and her eyes glittered as cold and hard as steel. Somewhere in all of the chaos, she'd leapt to her feet. "Why do you think I stopped dancing? I could have continued and done well, we both know that. But I never wanted to dance with anyone but you. It was _always_ you."

What was she trying to _do _to him? Like a drowning man, he clutched at his last defense. "It couldn't have been your dream to be hindered by me-"

"Don't you dare tell me what my dreams were." Her voice trembled in her anger, terrifying in its lack of volume. She never shouted, but she never needed to. "Did it never occur to you, Shiro, that _you_, and you alone, are my dream?"

Then, to her complete horror and mortification, she burst into tears. She turned and fled, barely registering his ashen, stricken face.

She'd called him _Shiro_. Unohana Retsu, a woman who was unfailingly polite and formal with everyone, had called him by a nickname. It was too much to process at once.

That night, for the first time in five years, it was Ukitake who dragged Shunsui to the bars and proceeded to get absolutely trashed.

* * *

Matsumoto's eyes were starry as Gin led her off the stage and into the wings. "Kimutaku _winked_ at me!" she squealed.

Halibel rolled her golden eyes. "Calm down, Rangiku-kun."

Yoruichi nudged her cousin. "Say what you like, Halibel-chan, you know you're jealous. I am, after all, the one you watched _Long Vacation_ with." Her eyes danced as her cousin blushed. "So, that leaves the last dance of the night to you, Retsu-chan, Jyuu-kun. You won't be on for another fifteen minutes…are you ready?"

Ukitake, who was fumbling with his cuff links, managed a grin. "Of course." It had been far too long since he'd worn full ballroom costume, and the collar of his tuxedo shirt was just a tad bit too tight. Or at least, it had become too tight the moment he'd seen Retsu enter the NHK building in _her _ballroom costume.

The dress was of the lightest yellow and made of some silky fabric that draped across her body lovingly; lightly whispering around her with each step she took. There was no back, with the skirt beginning at the small of her back, accented by a large rosette. Her arms were covered in long, matching opera gloves. Her midnight hair was done into an elaborately braided and twisted bun that sat low on her neck, anchored by flowered clips.

He'd forgotten to breathe for a moment. A lesser man might have resented the hold she held over him, but not he. Anything that she might have stolen from him, he had given to her freely.

Including – _especially_ – his heart. Perhaps there was something to be said about drinking one's self into oblivion, because when he woke with the mother of all hangovers, the words that rang clearly in his ears were her words, and Shunsui's words – for once, not the same old tired reasons he'd been repeating to himself over and over for the past five years. And they played, over and over in his head like a demented record player, until he had to see past his own lies to the truth – his truth, that there was truly no blame between them, merely misunderstanding and many, many lost chances. And such _love_, that overrode all of those things.

Of course, he has still taken some time to reach that acceptance. One does not let go of ideals that have held so steadfast over the years quite that easily. But because he could not stop hearing her words in his head, he finally listened. And then he could no longer deny that he'd been a fool, and if he wanted to stop being one, he would have to go to Unohana and beg for her forgiveness – and for another chance.

It was easier said than done. Their confrontation had taken place a good three weeks ago. The first two weeks had been lost in a hazy holiday fog, not just for him, but for everyone in the studio, and the previous week had been devoted to practice for Kohaku. It had only been around then that he'd come to his stunning revelation, but he'd not had the courage to approach her, not then.

But now, it was New Year's Eve, and he intended to start out the New Year right. He glanced over at Shunsui, who nodded encouragingly. He approached his partner, who was talking quietly with Yoruichi, Halibel, and Matsumoto. He cleared his throat. "Ah…Retsu, may I please speak with you?"

Unohana bit her lip, ignoring the conspiratorial grins on the faces of the other women. Truth be told, she had stopped being angry at Ukitake weeks ago. Her temper was slow to build, but quick to dissipate. However, it was obvious that he had needed the time to work things out for himself, and she had given it to him. "Of course, Shiro." She followed him out of the wings and down the hallway into a small dressing room, wondering if he comprehended the enormity of her use of his nickname.

Ukitake took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. The flowery speech he'd prepared (one that made Shunsui proud) flew right out of his head. "I'm an idiot," he blurted. Briefly chagrined, he wondered how it was that she was the one woman who could reduce him to incoherent babble, and continued on. "But I'm an idiot that loves you. Will you forgive me?"

For a moment, she didn't respond, and he held his breath, fighting the growing trepidation. But then she smiled, and stepped into his arms with a murmured, "_Yes_."

He closed his eyes for a moment, thanking all the gods. "So many lost chances, Retsu," he murmured into her hair. "Will you give me one more?"

She looked up into his eyes and cradled his face between her small hands. "When you love someone, Shiro, there is always one more chance. All you ever need to do is ask."

Elation poured through him. "I'm asking, Retsu." He pressed his lips to her temple. "Forgive me for being a blind fool and for letting you get away. I should have come after you-"

"There is no need for forgiveness," was the firm reply. "I left you too, so we've both been fools." She smiled. "But then, I suppose we are all fools in love."

"Yes." Sighing, he pulled her closer, met her lips with his. He was done running. "If I'm your dream…Retsu, you make me fly." Then they were lost for a long, insensible, and joyous time in their own brilliant, dizzying dance.

"Ukitake-san, Unohana-san, the stage manager is going crazy, you have to go on soon-" Matsumoto stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the entwined couple, oblivious to the outside world. She slapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes going teary. "_Kawaii!_" she squealed.

"Rangiku-chan, did you find them?" Yoruichi asked as she came up behind the teenager. A mischievous grin spread across her face. "It's about time," she drawled as the two finally sprang apart, blushing furiously. "While this is as lovely as kittens frisking in the sunshine, you two have to get onstage."

Even that interruption hardly disrupted their glow. As they swept onstage past the apoplectic stage manager, Shunsui had to wipe his eyes with a handkerchief. "Damn it, they're going to blind everyone in the audience."

Their performance put everyone else's to shame that night. The audience barely remembered the musical act themselves, remembering instead the talented, radiant couple that circled the stage.

Needless to say, the 8/13 Dance Studio didn't have to worry about students again after that night.

* * *

Please review! Do I really have to threaten you guys with more dances with Mayuri? XD

Well...wow. This story has been a journey, to be sure. I'm not sure if I'm brave enough to attempt another UkiUno after this one (that would be a long time coming anyway, what with the rest of the Strictly Ballroom series). Unohana was incredibly hard to reach; at first I felt like I was writing about a box, that was how much emotion she had. But she ended up surprising me in the end (after much grief)! This Unohana has not had the benefit of hundreds of years to build tranquility and calm - and she's also madly in love. This story has a different flavor from the first two installments of the Strictly Ballroom series, so I'd really like to know what people think. I've been told by my betas (two for this story, that's how hard it was!) that I'm too wordy...if so, I apologize! And the cheese...yeah, I have no excuse. Next up in the series is Renji and Nemu!

Hugs and kisses to poptate (beta #1) for always helping me despite the constant harassment (and for the syntax stuff!), and Oovee (beta #2) for indulging me by reading this story and helping with the general plot, even though she knows nothing about Bleach.


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